Black Butler: Nightmares of a Madman
by BlueRaven666
Summary: When Undertaker begins having nightmares about various people he knows dying in various, gruesome fashions he begins looking into the cause and what the dreams could actually mean. He will soon learn, however, that the answers he's looking for are far worse than anything he can imagine.WARNINGS: Graphic descriptions of violence and gore. Disturbing content. Rated M. PLEASE REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1: The First Nightmare

**Chapter 1: The First Nightmare**

The coffins served their purposes, and at night they were the Undertaker's bed.

The old man, a retired Grim Reaper with long silver hair, set aside his black top hat and crawled into the nearest coffin, curled up in his robes, and fell asleep. However, it wasn't long before he was woken up by the sound of the shop's front door opening; the cheerful, silver bell clinking as the door opened and closed again, even thought he could have sworn he had locked the door and put up the sign saying that the shop was closed.

He lifted the lid to his coffin. Nobody was inside the shop but him. Undertaker crept out of his coffin and moved to the door to lock it. It was snowing outside and not a lot of people were moving about.

"Hm . . . must've been my imagination, I suppose."

Undertaker turned to return to his coffin, only to find that every coffin in the room had changed positions. They were all lined up and facing towards the door; towards _him_. The lids had been removed, revealing corpses resting inside; corpses that hadn't been there before. A bizarre sense of dread and foreboding began to claw at his gut; the sense that something here was very, very wrong.

He strode over to the coffin furthest to the left and looked inside.

A tall man with midnight black hair and pale, ivory skin laid there. He looked as if he were asleep with his hands, which had a pair of brand-new, white servant's gloves covering them, folded across his chest. He wore a fine tailcoat that was made out of high-quality wool. This man was familiar to him and for some reason seeing him like this brought a smile to his face.

"Well, well . . . I never thought we'd meet like this, butler," he stated with a grin, "Whatever will your precious master do now?"

Suddenly the corpse's eyes opened. The eyes had long lost their light and were now a dull brownish-red in color. The slitted pupils, once a very prominent feature in this man's eyes, were now so faint they could hardly be made out. His eyes gazed up at the ceiling with his mouth slightly agape, but he did not move at all, nor was he breathing. Undertaker checked his pulse just to be safe. The man was dead, and Undertaker let out a sigh.

"It's been a pleasure knowing you, Sebastian Michaelis." He said before letting out a crazed chuckle.

Undertaker moved onto the next coffin. Inside was a boy no older than twelve or thirteen years old; a boy he had been anticipating the arrival of for quite some time, now.

"Oh my!" Undertaker commented, "So _this_ is what happened to my little lord."

The boy lay in a much similar position as Sebastian; straight with his hands folded across his chest. He was dressed in a dark blue overcoat with matching shorts. He wore a white dress shirt and a blue bowtie, and over his right eye was a black eye patch.

"Well," Undertaker said, "I suppose you and you butler will be able to travel through the depths of Hell together, then."

As it had happened with Sebastian, they boy's one good eye opened and stared up at the ceiling. Looking back at Sebastian, Undertaker realized this boy's face held a much calmer, more peaceful expression, as opposed to the butler, who looked more troubled and full of sorrow.

Moving onto the third coffin, Undertaker observed—much to his discomfort—a younger man with dark brown hair and a pair of rectangular spectacles on his face. He was dressed in a plain black suit and necktie; incredibly ordinary, just as he'd always been.

"William T. Spears . . ." Undertaker muttered to himself, "Whatever happened to you, you poor, dull fellow?"

For a third time, the corpse's eyes snapped open; their original bright green color glazed over in white.

Chills began to race down Undertaker's spine. He knew now that there was definitely something wrong with their bodies, and there were still more. He could name them all.

Sebastian Michaelis.

Ciel Phantomhive.

William T. Spears.

Elizabeth Midford.

Ronald Knox.

Grell Sutcliff.

There was one last coffin at the very end of the room, and at this point Undertaker didn't want to look to see who the last person was. All he wanted was to go back to sleep. But his curiosity was getting the better of him and he cautiously strolled over to the seventh and final coffin.

His face fell in horror and confusion at what he saw.

A man in long black robes and a black, crooked top hat lay there. His long silver hair stretched down to his armpits and a disturbing grin was frozen into his face.

The man lying there . . .

. . . Was old Undertaker; himself.

In fear, Undertaker backed up against the shop's door; not wanting to watch as the eyes to his own corpse opened.

"What is this?" he asked himself.

And, for a seventh time, the eyes of his corpse—_his_ corpse—opened. They were milky white; unseeing. Then suddenly, they blinked. The eyes of all the corpses began to blink and move. Eerie snapping sounds started in their necks as they began to move and their bodies groaned as they sat up.

They did not get up from their coffins, but their dead, unseeing eyes stared at him.

Sebastian looked at him with a miserable, sad gaze.

"I did not ask for this." He said in a weak sorrowful voice.

Ciel followed, "I was not responsible for his death."

Then William, "I was just doing my job."

And Elizabeth, "I only wanted to make Ciel happy again."

Then Ronald, "I couldn't take it anymore."

And then Grell, "I didn't want anyone else to get hurt."

Undertaker then looked at his own corpse, who still sat there grinning at him. After several long minutes of terrifying silence, it spoke.

"You will not be able to save them. They will die, and you will not care. Am I wrong?"

It was hard to scare Undertaker. Over the course of several hundreds of years, he had witnessed every form of death imaginable; each ranging in different forms of brutality. But the sight of these corpse's, and the fact that they were speaking to him, had him shaking in his boots.

"Will you not care that I died because of him?" Sebastian asked.

"Will you not care that I died because my butler failed me?" Ciel asked.

"Will you not care that I died to save you?" William asked.

"Will you not care that I died of a broken heart?" Elizabeth asked.

"Will you not care that I had nothing left to live for?" Ronald asked.

"Will you not care that I died trying to save the one I love?" Grell asked.

Undertaker was frozen, "I . . . I . . ."

He watched as his corpse grinned wider, "You. Failed. Them."

Out of fright, Undertaker collapsed.

* * *

><p>Undertaker woke with a start and looked around wildly.<p>

He was lying in one of his custom-made coffins with the lid on it. His heart was pounding and sweat coated his face.

"A-A dream?" he asked himself. He then cracked open the coffin's lid and looked around inside his shop. I was just as he had left it and the sun was just starting to rise.

He laughed at himself.

"It was just a bad dream."


	2. Chapter 2: The Second Nightmare

**Chapter 2: The Second Nightmare**

Nightmares did not come to Undertaker on a regular basis. They were few and far between. The things that terrified most people did not terrify him; in fact, the only thing that _did_ terrify him—ironically enough—was the world of the supernatural. If something didn't make sense to him and he couldn't solve the problem, whether it was related to the mortals of the earth or not, it scared him. It worried him. He never liked _not knowing_, since he had a reputation around London as being the one to have all of the answers.

His nightmare was definitely unusual to him. All of those people . . . himself . . . What did they mean? He couldn't get the image of his own corpse out of his head; undamaged in body, yet very much dead. Those lifeless eyes had run right through him, and that grin . . . even that grin had creeped him out.

The next day flew by, but only a select few people had visited his shop. Sebastian and Ciel had come in looking for answers about a murder, and as usual the butler had given him a first-rate laugh. William had done much the same thing, even though he had already collected the victim's soul. Grell had stopped by looking for Sebastian and Elizabeth came in not long after looking for Ciel before she was dragged out by her mother. At the end of the night, Ronald stumbled in, hopelessly drunk and depressed over a bad break-up.

Undertaker thought about what their corpses had said in his nightmare.

He remembered what Sebastian had said, _"I did not ask for this."_

After listening to Ronald ramble on for several drunken minutes, the words echoed in his mind, _"I couldn't take it anymore."_

He tried not to think of his nightmare too much as he settled in his coffin that night to sleep after making sure his shop's door was locked and closing away all of his coffins.

It had only been a couple of minutes before Undertaker suddenly heard the sound of the shop's front door opening. His eyes shot open.

_That's impossible! I . . . I locked the door!_

Undertaker listened closely. There was nobody walking around. Nobody was calling out his name to get him to come. As far as he was concerned, nobody was there.

_"Just go back to sleep,"_ he told himself, _"Everything will be all right in the morning."_

Just as Undertaker closed his eyes, he heard something jump on top of his coffin, and a soft noise came from the other side of the lid.

_"Meow!"_

Undertaker hummed with curiosity, _"How would a cat get into my shop?"_

Reluctantly, the old Reaper crawled out of his coffin; disturbing the resting spot of a large black cat with long fur. Undertaker watched the cat and the cat watched Undertaker. It meowed at him again.

"Don't you know it's bad luck for a cat to jump over a coffin?" he said to the animal, "What do you want with me at this late hour?"

_"Meow!"_

The cat then turned around and trotted back towards the door and waited.

Undertaker crept out of his coffin and moved towards the door. He put his hand on the handle and attempted to turning, only to find the door was locked . . .

. . . and that's when he remembered.

How could a cat get into a locked building?

Undertaker reached into one of the sleeves of his black robes and hunted for the keys. After digging through several beaded necklaces, jars of this and bottles of that, his fingers found the metal ring that held the key to his shop. He stuck it in the door and opened it wide enough for the cat to slip through. The cat looked at him for a second before trotting out the door, turning around at the sidewalk, and sitting down; as if it were waiting for him to follow.

Rather than doing what he thought the cat wanted him to do, Undertaker shut the shop's door and locked it behind him. but when he turned to return to his coffin, he found the same cat sitting on its lid. It meowed at him desperately and impatiently.

Undertaker sighed, "You really want me to follow you, don't you?"

The cat meowed in response and jumped down from the coffin. Undertaker unlocked the door again and followed the black cat out into the streets of London. It led him a block or two away from his shop before turning into an alley.

At the very end of the alley stood a tall dark figure in a black trench coat. A thin sheet of snow covered his shoulders as if he'd been standing there for a while. Undertaker knew just from the man's silhouette who it was.

"Sebastian?" he inquired, "Kind of late to be taking a stroll around London, isn't it?"

Sebastian didn't reply.

The cat meowed and strode up to him; brushing against his leg. Even at this the demon-butler didn't respond, and Undertaker knew just how fond Sebastian was of cats.

"Sebastian . . . is everything all right?"

At last Sebastian replied, "You've never cared about my welfare before."

Undertaker frowned. Sebastian's voice sounded blank, dull, uncharismatic, and utterly unlike himself. A foul smell hit his nose; a smell that reminded him of a burning automobile, and it seemed as though it was coming from the butler's clothes.

"Sebastian?"

The demon's head turned to him slightly, and then . . . very slowly, it continued to turn; 180 degrees until he was looking right at him. His eyes were hollowed pits and his mouth held no expression. Smoke seemed to billow out of his nostrils; smoke, not just the warmth of his breath against the cold winter air.

"What's happened to you?" Undertaker asked.

Sebastian blinked, "You will see."

With those words, the demon's body crumbled and turned to ash. Clumps of it caught in the wind that was blowing and were blown away.

Undertaker turned to look for the cat that had led him here. He found the feline against the back wall of the alley with its back arched and fur bristling. Its eyes were wide and round with fear as it attempted to back away from something; hissing and yowling in distress. He strode over to see what could be causing the cat to act in such a way.

The only thing Undertaker saw was a dirty stuffed toy sitting upright on a wooden barrel. He recognized it as one of the Funtom Company's toys; a stuffed white rabbit with a mangled black eye patch and half of its left ear torn away.

The cat grew more scared as Undertaker picked up the toy and looked it over. Around the rabbit's neck was an old, discolored necklace. A crucifix. Jesus Christ, rusted and rotting away, was still nailed to it.

What did this mean?

The sound of crying caught Undertaker's attention. Back towards the sidewalk at the very front of the alley was young Elizabeth.

The lady was dressed in the saddest of outfits; a black dress with a layered, fluffy skirt. A black bonnet sat atop her finely curled hair. A pair of black gloves covered her delicate doll-like hands. Everything she wore, down to her shoes and stockings, was black.

Elizabeth whimpered and sniffled as she clutched something in her hands. Undertaker strode up to her and tried to be as compassionate as he could manage.

"It isn't safe for a little lady like you to roam the streets alone at night," he said, "Especially in winter. You'll catch your death out here."

Elizabeth didn't stop crying. She didn't even look up at him. all she did was fade away from his sight in a thin, black mist.

Once more, Undertaker turned to search for the cat, only to turn to a rather disturbing scene.

The alley was now gone; replaced by the scene of a burning mansion. In front of the mansion, two large crosses stood burning with a charred corpse nailed to each one. At the foot of the crosses were the bodies of Grell and William, torn up as if they'd been fighting something off before they were killed. Poor Ronald hung from his neck by a rope in a tree with William's death scythe running through his torso.

At the foot of one of the crosses was Lady Elizabeth with her arms wrapped around it. She cried, as if her soul depended on it.

Undertaker's mind spun.

"What is this?" he asked himself.

As he looked around, he caught a glimpse of the corpse from his last nightmare; his corpse. It still stared at him with those dead, pale eyes and his face still had that diabolical grin etched into it.

"This is their fate," the corpse whispered, "You will see. Soon."

* * *

><p>With that, Undertaker woke up, still lying in his coffin; the end of another nightmare.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3: Grim Reaper Gone

**Chapter 3: Grim Reaper Gone**

Two nights, two awful nightmares, and Undertaker was trying to make sense of it all. He tried to understand what his corpse was saying. One thing he did understand was that everyone—Sebastian, Ciel, Grell, William, Ronald, and Elizabeth—would soon die and become his next customers. But what would happen that could lead to all of that? Most of those people were supernatural beings that were rather difficult to kill. What would be the cause of it all?

Upon opening his doors the very next morning, Undertaker went to the alley that he had seen in his dream. It was just as he had seen it, given that Sebastian wasn't there and the back wall wasn't transforming into the image of that mansion burning and those corpses that had been nailed to the crosses standing in front of it. However, just as it had been in his dream, there was a stuffed Funtom toy sitting on a wooden barrel that was in the same ragged condition as his dream had showed it. The cat that had slipped into his shop and led him to that alley lies dead against the far wall; nothing but a skeleton with a few scraps of fur clinging to its bones.

Undertaker turned to return to his shop, only to bump into someone. He nearly jumped out of his skin, ready to throw a punch out of his overwhelming fright, until he realized that the person he had run into was only Grell. The red-haired Reaper looked unusually gloomy and downcast; a depressing slash of a frown had settled on his face.

"I'm going to give myself a heart attack if I'm not careful," Undertaker sighed before letting out a chuckle, "What is it that you needed Grell?"

Grell crossed his arms and looked away, "You know, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for William, but he's in too much shock to really speak to anybody. So I had to come instead."

"That dull fellow? In shock? My, oh my! What sort of tragedy has played out that ol' William doesn't want to speak with me?"

Grell was silent. The depression in his features deepened.

"It's Ronald," he started, "He was seeing this lady that works in reception at the office. A day or two ago, she left him because she was sure he wouldn't be able to keep his job; going out to parties every night, and all. She also accused him of cheating on her, so she just left him. Here's the thing; Ronald has been trying to get his life in order ever since he met her. He went to fewer parties and tried to work harder at his job. After dating for four years, he was ready to propose to her, only to have her break up with him just as he was about to ask."

Undertaker wasn't one to really enjoy the sob-stories of other people, and he normally tuned them out once someone got going, but he listened to Grell and he frowned, "That's what he told me last night."

Grell looked rather surprised, "Wait . . . you _saw_ him?"

"I did. I let him sit down with me to have a cup of tea. He was quite drunk and I listened to him talk about the girl."

"Did anything seem wrong to you? Anything that told you that he might have wanted to hurt himself, or anything?"

"No," Undertaker replied, shaking his head, "As a matter of fact, he told me he was in much better spirits when he left."

Grell looked away again; looking somewhat baffled at Undertaker's statement.

"It just doesn't make sense." He muttered.

"What?"

Grell was silent for several seconds before he responded.

"William found Ronald in his apartment this morning. From the looks of it, he took Will's death scythe and stabbed himself, or maybe he fell on it; I don't know. After he did that, he looked like he went through the trouble of hanging himself. Blood was all over his apartment. It's needless to explain the reason why I came to find you."

Undertaker was left in a state of shock, "Ronald . . . is dead?"

Grell nodded sadly, "I've dropped his body off at your shop. William wanted me to tell you something else, as well."

"What is it?"

"Grim Reaper HQ was recently attacked by a swarm of angels. Several Cinematic Records have been stolen, and by now they've likely been altered by those beasts. Needless to say that such an act might bring up tensions; maybe a war. I just thought you should be aware."

* * *

><p>A Grim Reaper was dead, the headquarters had been attacked, and Cinematic Records were now in the hands of purity-obsessed angels. From the way things sounded to Undertaker, all that was left to do was have Hell and all of its demons break loose, and total chaos in every realm of the world would be achieved.<p>

The old Reaper worked on Ronald's body in silence. He normally talked to himself as he worked, but the mood didn't call for that now. It wasn't every day that a Grim Reaper died; unlike humans. And it was a far more rare occasion for one to commit suicide. He closed the gaping wound in his torso from where William's death scythe had run him through and he covered the discolored skin that had been pressed and rubbed by the rope he had hung himself with. It was a sad fact to know that had Ronald not fatally wounded himself with a death scythe first, he would have live.

Undertaker rested his chin on the edge of the coffin and took in the scent of embalming fluid that rose from Ronald's corpse. Normally, the smell excited him and made him grin, but now he was left only frowning.

"I'm terribly sorry, my dear friend. I wish there was more I could have done to help you."


	4. Chapter 4: The Third Nightmare

**Chapter 4: The Third Nightmare**

Ronald was buried under a setting sun; during the time of day that Undertaker knew had always been Ronald's favorite. When he'd see him standing on the roof of some apartment building, the amber hue that the sun cast over him made him seem more of a heavenly being rather than one of impending death. Then again, death came to all beings; supernatural or not—sooner or later. It may be something peaceful, like passing away in sleep. It may come as something sudden, such as when a carriage crashes. It may come slowly, like with sickness or infection. Or, in Ronald's case, it could be planned out just as you wish.

Undertaker didn't look at his shop the same way again. He would sit on his coffin and look to the one Ronald had sat on when he came in to talk to him, and that's all he'd see. He'd see Ronald sitting there, crying with a cup of tea clasped in his hands. It was a sad, sad sight.

"I really wish there was more I could have done to save you." Undertaker said with his head bowed, "I hope you've found peace and happiness, at last."

Just as he was about to turn-in for the night and close up his shop, that peculiar smell hit his nose again; that smell that reminded him of a burning automobile. The smell he remembered coming off of Sebastian's clothes in his nightmare the previous night.

"Just what I need . . ." Undertaker sighed deeply, "Another close friend dead."

However, as he followed the smell to see where it was coming from, he realized that it wasn't coming from the streets, where he suspected an automobile crash to occur. It was coming, much to his discomfort, from somewhere inside of his shop. Undertaker glanced around, trying to follow his nose to where the foul stench was coming from.

His search brought him to a long forgotten coffin in the furthest corner of his shop. It was so old. The black color of it was faded and some of the coating on the wood was chipping and peeling off. Oddly enough, despite its rotting condition and the fact it hadn't been touched in years, all of the dust that had accumulated on it had been wiped away and the cobwebs that had been growing were now gone. And from within the coffin, the smell only grew stronger.

Undertaker's hand reached for the coffin's lid and slowly pushed it open.

All at once, the smell seemed to vanish and the coffin opened up to reveal the hollow inside; dusty and cluttered with old cobwebs and dead spiders and the few bugs they had caught.

Undertaker laughed at himself as he repositioned the lid back on top of the coffin, "I'm going to scare myself out of my skin if I'm not careful."

He turned back to close up the shop when he heard something outside of the funeral parlor's door. Crying; sad and full of sorrow. It was not the whimpering of Lady Elizabeth; in fact it was so familiar yet so disturbing that Undertaker instantly found himself trying to seek out the source. He knew who he was looking for.

Right outside the door, a figure cried into his hands as he sat on his knees on the snowy sidewalk. His plain business suit was disheveled and his combed-over dark brown hair was a mess, as if his nervous hands had undone what a comb had cleaned up when he woke up that morning. In short, the man was an emotional wreck.

Undertaker took a few cautious steps forward, "William? Grell . . . he told me what happened."

William's sobs became heavier and louder. It was obvious that the younger Grim Reaper hadn't gotten over when had happened earlier within the past few days.

"Come in for a cup of coffee, or maybe a bit of tea, Will," Undertaker offered, "Otherwise your tears could freeze to your face."

William still didn't respond and continued sobbing. Undertaker attempted to move toward him more, only to find himself stuck fast in place. The natural bend his legs had felt as if they'd been frozen at every joint from his toes to his hips. At first, he thought his legs had just fallen asleep, as old and tired limbs tend to do from time to time. But as he continued to struggle to move his legs, he found that the stiffness remained; if anything, it grew worse, gluing him in place. William continued to sob, and even he hadn't moved. Was the younger Reaper frozen in place, as well?

"Gee-whizz! I've never seen Boss break down and cry before."

The sudden voice made Undertaker whip around as far as his wiry torso would let him. There stood, much to his disbelief, Ronald.

"How is this possible?" he muttered, "You're . . ."

"Ha!" Ronald laughed, "I'll tell you what I thought couldn't be possible; seeing the party-pooper over there cry. What's the matter, Boss? More overtime?"

At last there was a mutter, ". . . c-couldn't save them."

Undertaker tilted his head curiously, "What?"

"I . . . I couldn't save them! Sebastian . . . and then Ciel . . . and Grell . . . Oh, poor Grell!"

"I thought ol' man Sutcliff could handle himself?" Ronald commented, "And you're crying over a demon and his brat master. Why are you so fazed?"

William turned to Ronald with rage lighting up his bright green eyes, "You'd be fazed too if you watched one of those creatures endure a crucifixion! And for what?! Even I was able to see that that vermin had done nothing wrong. First him, and then Ciel . . ."

"And Grell?"

"He tried to save them. He tried to throw himself into the flames and free them from the mob and the crucifix they'd nailed them to. But . . . he was captured by the mob and he . . . he wasn't spared."

Undertaker listened with intense interest; fascinated and horrified all at once that a proud demon like Sebastian endured, of all things, a crucifixion. It came as little surprise to him that Grell had tried to save him, as his love for the demon was as strong as the bizarreness of the love itself. Grell had to be deathly ill _not_ to do such a thing.

And then, as soon as they were there, Ronald and William vanished in that weird black mist Undertaker had seen Elizabeth parish into in his nightmare last night . . .

. . . or was all of this nothing but a dream, after all?


	5. Chapter 5: Grim

**Chapter 5: Grim**

William refused to leave his office. His eyes had yet to leave the growing stack of paperwork that had piled up on his desk over these past days, and he had yet to start on it, as well. His mind was still swimming with thoughts of Ronald and the recent suicide, not to mention that the tensions that were rising between the Reapers and the angels and the two immortals had declared war. Not only that, but also the recent exposure of a demon in Liverpool had caused a panic throughout England, and mobs were now witch-hunting for them.

Nobody dared to bother the Reaper as he sat there and stared. Those who tried were either waved off or snapped at, and God forbid it if William T. Spears the Silent had to raise his voice just to be left alone. He didn't dare to touch his death scythe, or so much as look at it. The memory of having to pull it from Ronald's body haunted him greatly, and until that memory and that horror began to fade, there'd be no reaping for Will.

The issue of mobs hunting for demons, though, had him extremely concerned. These mobs spoke of killing the demons; crucifying them—sending them back to Hell where they belonged. As much as he hated to admit it, William knew that if any particular demon were to lose their life at the hands of a human, Satan could decide to uproot Hell himself. For the Grim Reapers, that meant thousands, if not millions, of demons swarming and ravaging the world. Not only that, humans going so far as to slay demons in any amount could affect the angels, as well. Very few have ever witnessed the death of a demon.

Knowing all of this, William was clueless as to where he should start. Should he start by accounting for troops sent to look out for the angels? Should he start sending patrols to monitor the mobs' activities? Should they help the demons? Were they still one of their enemies?

A loud buzzing sound sucked him out of his thoughts. Reception was trying to make contact with him. Again. He admitted defeat and pressed the button connecting him with the other person.

"Yes?"

"Oh, my god! You actually answered this time!" a female voice said to him, "Grim is here. He wants to talk to you. It's urgent, apparently."

Grim. He who put that name in 'Grim Reaper'.

William sighed, "Send him up."

"He's already on his way up, sir."

Not two seconds later, there was a knock on William's office door.

"Come in."

The door opened and the elder Reaper walked in.

"It's never a _good thing_ when the Undertaker is coming to see _me_," William stated, "What brings you here?"

Undertaker sat himself on the edge of Will's desk with a sigh.

"Believe it or not, I'm the one who needs information," he said, "Information only you may have."

"What a surprise. Out with it, then."

"I need to know if there are any demons on the To-Die List. If there are, I need to know who they are."

William leaned back in his chair, "I haven't looked at the To-Die List in several days. I haven't been reaping any souls or have been out in the field in anyway. So, I wouldn't know."

Undertaker let out a frustrated huff and set a To-Die List in front of him.

"Look it up, Mr. Spears!"

"Why are you so concerned about the demons? Normally, you don't seem to care about those who haven't died."

"I've been having some odd dreams as of late. They all point to the fact that soon—very soon—people are going to die. Ronald had been in them, and the way in which he died was the same as it had been in my dreams. Sebastian and Ciel are in them; Grell, too, and Elizabeth Middleford."

Undertaker forced himself to stop his list there. He didn't want to make William aware of what sort of death awaited him.

"Lately, Sebastian Michaelis's death has been ringing strong in the air, but I haven't the faintest idea of what's going to happen to him. As much as I don't want to know, I have to know! I have to know if there's a way for me to save him."

William was silent for several seconds before he let out a sigh.

"Grell Sutcliff is stationed near the Phantomhive Manor to keep watch and make sure mobs don't come within that area," he said, "If it'll ease you conscience, you can meet him there."

"That's not what I came here to do," Undertaker said sternly, "Look at the To-Die List and tell me if Michaelis's name is there!"

Suddenly, a red light on the voice box on William's desk began to flash and Grell's voice spoke to them.

"Will? Will?! Are you there? There's a mob heading towards the Phantomhive Manor!"

"Affirmative, Sutcliff," William replied in a slightly panicked tone, "How many?"

"I don't know . . . Hundreds? Thousands? It's a big mob, Will! I need backup over here!"

William's hands found the To-Die List and he began to scan its pages. He stopped suddenly and a look of horror crossed his face.

"His name is there," he said, "Sebastian Michaelis is scheduled to die at 3:22 this afternoon."

"The cause of death?" Undertaker inquired.

William shuttered, "That can't be right . . ."

"What is it, Will?!"

"C-Crucifixion. That's the cause of death. Crucifixion and severe burning; both his and Ciel's names are on the list."


	6. Chapter 6: How to Save a Life

**Chapter 6: How to Save a Life**

Undertaker and William bounded across rooftops and leapt through the sky to reach their destination. In the distance, they saw smoke rising from within the trees and the shadow the mob had created made it look like a scar cutting across the land. This wasn't looking good. William and Undertaker knew that if Sebastian and Ciel weren't being burned alive, the mob had set the manor on fire to chase them out.

Undertaker just happened to glance up at the sky to where the smoke from the fire was gathering. He could see large pale shapes circling . . . circling. The angels. What were they seeing? They were gathering in large numbers and were obviously panicking about the sight below them. It had to be an awful sight.

Then, out of the trees, came a flash of red. Grell sprinted away from the direction of the smoke towards them. He looked horrified.

"Grell!" William barked, "What's happening?"

"Awful . . . Awful . . ." the red-haired Reaper muttered, "They're surrounded! There's no way that they're going to . . ."

"Don't talk like that, Sutcliff!" Undertaker hissed, "We can save them. There's got to be a way!"

"We can think through that later," William said, "First thing's first; we need to assess the situation before we—"

A loud cheer rang through the air. It had come from the mob.

"They've chased them out of the mansion!" Grell gasped, "Bassy!"

The Reaper ran full-speed back towards the chaos with Will and Undertaker following closely behind him.

Dreams, nightmares, an old retired Reaper's imagination; nothing could have prepared Undertaker for the sight that unfolded before him. The Phantomhive Manor was engulfed in flames with a crowd of angry civilians circled around it. They waved pitchforks, guns, knives, and torches as they shouted in anger.

The three immortals were about half a mile from the blazing inferno when a dark shape landed in front of them. It was Sebastian. Ciel Phantomhive was being carried in his arms as he clung to his neck.

"I cut it close. They'll be after me soon enough."

Undertaker shook his head, "Sebastian, you don't have to . . ."

"There's no time!" the demon cut in, "I highly doubt they didn't see me escape and they'll chase me until I'm dead. I need you to do something for me," Sebastian set Ciel in Undertaker's arms, "Take care of him for me. Make sure they don't find him."

"But Sebastian!" Ciel tried to protest, only to be stopped by Sebastian lifting his hand.

"I'll be fine, Young Master. Please don't worry. I shall return soon enough."

With that, Sebastian turned on his heel and bolted off back in the direction of the burning manor.

"Well, you heard him," William said, "We need to find a safe place for Lord Phantomhive."

"No!" Ciel shouted, "They'll . . . they'll kill Sebastian! We can't just leave him!"

"I agree with the brat!" Grell added, "That mob didn't come for tea and cookies. The way things looked back there, Bassy won't survive."

They'll kill Sebastian? Won't survive? It almost sounded as though the demon was nearly human. But Undertaker knew from his nightmares and from the To-Die List that it would happen.

Undertaker handed Ciel to William, "I'll be right back."

"And where do you think you're going?" William inquired.

Undertaker summoned his death scythe; a large sickle decorated with a skull, ribs and a spine along the blade.

"He's going to need help."

* * *

><p>Just as soon as Undertaker was sure he'd be able to keep up with Sebastian, he lost him in the smoke that filled the woods surrounding the Phantomhive Manor. He moved up to the treetops in an attempt to get a bird's eye view on the demon's location, but even from above he couldn't see anything through the smoke. The only clue he was given about the demon's location was the shouting of the mob, which now started up louder than before.<p>

Undertaker pressed himself to travel faster. In his struggle to continue, a distant memory washed over him.

* * *

><p><em><strong>*Flashback*<strong>_

_"The name of your target is unimportant. The only thing you need to know is that he is a demon and he needs to be stopped. Is that clear, Grim?"_

_ The grey-haired Reaper stood before his superior, scythe in-hand. His black trench coat stretched down to his ankles and a smile stretched from ear to ear across his face._

_ "Crystal, sir."_

_ "You've been causing quite a bit of trouble as of late. This is your last chance to prove yourself as a Soul Reaper or you will be demoted. Is that understood?"_

_ "Yes, sir."_

_ "Then go. Give us your report when you return."_

* * *

><p>Undertaker quickly tried to shake that memory off.<p>

He remembered that before the title of "Grim Reaper" came about, his kind was known as "Soul Reapers".

"What was that about, anyway?" he asked himself. He couldn't recall any occasion where his job was at stake if he didn't kill a demon. Then again, under what circumstances was he forced to retire from active service as a Reaper?

Undertaker forced himself to stop when he began hearing shrieks of terror and pain coming from members of the mob. He had to be at least fifty yards from the manor now and the smoke was so thick one could barely see ten feet in front of them. From the smoke, thick coils of darkness pushed their way through; robbing every living thing of their sense of sight.

"Damn it, Sebastian! Undertaker hissed under his breath, "I'm trying to help you. Where are you?"

He pressed forward with caution, feeling with one hand out in front of him to avoid running into trees and other obstacles.

Two gunshots and a pained scream rang out, and suddenly the darkness began to retreat back towards its source. With better vision, Undertaker could see that in the darkness Sebastian had killed several members of the mob; impaling them on snapped tree limbs and throwing against large rocks.

Undertaker focused on moving in the direction he had heard the scream and gunshots come from. When he came into a clearing, he saw Sebastian on the ground clutching his side with several angry mob members surrounding him. He bled heavily and yowled at the obvious pain he was in.

"How does it feel, demon?" a man asked, "How does it feel to be shot with a bullet that's been purified and dipped in holy water?"

Sebastian struggled to stand back up, only to have the man shoot him again. The shot hit him in the shoulder and he cried out in pain again. Undertaker was astounded! The bullets must have caused him more pain than an ordinary bullet from a gun, because the demon would have never howled like that otherwise.

As the blood began to run out of his wounds, Sebastian admitted defeat.

"Do what you like with me," he said, "Just don't harm my master."

Several members of the mob laughed at the demon's request.

"Your master is the reason you're even here," the man with the gun proclaimed, "He dies along with you."

No sooner than that was said, Grell and William came into view along with Ciel; bound and gagged.

"These two were caught trying to help the brat escape," a man armed with a club stated, "They could be demons, too!"

"The red one has sharp teeth!" a woman cried out, "He has to be a demon!"

"Look at their eyes! They glow!"

"They must be killed!"

"No!" the man with the gun shouted, "If they're here because of the demon butler, then they too will watch and see what their fate is."

The immense fear and horror in Ciel's features couldn't be missed as he observed his butler's current state, "Sebastian . . ."

A group of people from the mob worked to carry a large wooden cross over to where the demon laid. Sebastian looked from Ciel to the cross and then back to Ciel.

"Young Master . . . I'm sorry. I've failed you."

Everyone watched as he was drug across the lawn and positioned onto the cross. His wrists and his ankles were forcedly tied down to it. Blood loss, immense pain, and horrible injury—the purified substances that were now poisoning his body—kept him pinned down and left him too weak to free himself.

A man appeared beside him with nine-inch nails in his hands.

"No, Bassy!" Grell shrieked, "You leave him alone!"

The man ignored Grell's pleas and proceeded to position a nail at one of Sebastian's wrists. He was given a large hammer and, with close precision, lined it up with the nail.

The gory sound of the nail being driven through the flesh and the bone could be heard from quite a distance. Sebastian winced and cried out as the nail was hammered in until the head just barely touched the skin. This process was repeated with three other nails that pinned down the other arm and his feet. By this point, Sebastian was hardly responsive. He moaned at the pain and even gave weak attempts to free himself from the nails, but it was no use.

The mob had also grown strangely somber to the sight. Where they had once been cheering and shouting, they were now silent and holding each other.

Undertaker looked above him. The number of angels swarming in the smoke of the burning mansion had grown. He could tell that they were also horrified by the sight, and they were crying; odd for creatures completely opposite of the demon.

Ciel and Grell were crying; unaccustomed to seeing the stoic Sebastian Michaelis reduced to such a weak and defenseless state. William stood there and gazed at the demon with a sorry expression.

"So this is how you people do justice?" Grell sobbed, "You torture people instead of just killing them?"

His questions were ignored as ropes were attached to the ends of the cross and groups of people worked to pull it upright. Sebastian's screams intensified the more of his weight that was put on the nails.

"Have mercy on the creature," Undertaker found himself saying to himself. Mindlessly he walked towards the horrific scene and stood there with the blankest expression, "He doesn't deserve to die this way."

Nobody seemed to hear him as the man that had driven the nails into Sebastian's limbs approached the demon with a bottle full of a clear liquid in his hands. He removed the bottle's cap and proceeded to pour the liquid onto his body. Sebastian shuddered and whines, almost as if he were trying to prevent himself from breathing. Smoke began to roll off his skin where the liquid had landed and run across and it seeped into his clothes. It created that smell Undertaker remembered from his dream; the smell that reminded him of a burning automobile.

In one massive breath from Sebastian, the whole cross seemed to burst into light up and burst into flames. The man that had been perched beside him was knocked to the ground by the intense heat. Sebastian's pained shrieks could be heard over the roar of the fire.

"Mercy!" a girl in the crowd shrieked, "Have mercy!"

Several people joined in, others remained silent.

"Those who weep for this man weep for Satan!" the man with the gun shouted.

In a burst of rage, Grell suddenly broke free from his restraints and the grip of his captors and he summoned his death scythe. He cut through the base of the cross, causing it to topple and fall apart.

Awakening from his trance, Undertaker rushed forward and caught the demon in midair.

"Go! Run! Save him!" Grell shouted, "I'll try to hold them off!"

Ciel could be heard shouting the same thing; his own safety far gone from his mind.

Undertaker nodded and sprinted full speed deep into the woods and away from the chaos.


	7. Chapter 7: The Forgotten Memory

**Chapter 7: The Forgotten Memory**

Undertaker kept a steady pace. His gate was smooth as he ran with the demon cradled in his arms. True, he was old and it was likely that his legs would protest this decision tomorrow, but he didn't care about that now. The only thing he cared about was getting the poor, wounded creature that laid limp in his arms to safety.

Eventually, Undertaker stopped at the base of a tall oak tree. The smoke had thinned out quite a bit so it was easier to see, and they were now far enough away from the burning manor that anyone that might have tried to follow them wouldn't find them for quite a bit of time.

Undertaker, as gently as he could muster, laid Sebastian down in a patch of soft, cool grass beside the tree. Every little movement was torture to the demon; a mixture of aching, stinging, burning, and stabbing pain. There were places on his skin where the fire had only charred it black, but other places—especially where the holy water had landed—had burns that opened up the skin. Where Sebastian had been shot, the flesh was charred to a disgusting shade of black with patches of dark red blood attempting to clot standing out; painfully so.

Those weren't the only problems. The nails that had been driven into his hands and feet were still there. Undertaker reached down, wanting to remove the nine-inch spikes and attempt to easy the demon's pain, but an agonizing wheeze from Sebastian stopped him.

"Don't." He coughed weakly, "That was . . . interesting."

"What?"

Undertaker didn't know if what came out of Sebastian's mouth was a laugh, a cough, or a sob, but it made his broken body jerk in a way he was unsettled by.

"That had to be the worst pain I've ever endured."

He reached one hand up to his neck, as if he were trying to clutch it in pain, but the nail that was in the way grazed it roughly. The demon hissed and pulled his hand away. Undertaker looked and was disgusted to realize that he could also see the bone to Sebastian's lower jaw showing through one of the burns.

"Just hang in there, Sebastian," he said, "Everything's going to be . . ."

"That's okay . . . I know. Hell, I let that crowd take me knowing I wouldn't make it."

"You're alive now, Sebastian. Don't think I'm overestimating your strength."

"But you are. You might be very old and have been retired from active service as a Grim Reaper, but I still know you're still able to smell death from a mile away."

Sebastian let his eyes close as he rested momentarily; tired and weak, "Grim?"

Undertaker was astonished that the demon knew his real name, "Yes?"

"You even remember the day we first met?"

"Yes; it was only about a year ago when you and Lord Phantomhive walked in asking for information about the Jack the Ripper murders."

Sebastian shook his head, "No . . . no, _long_ before that, even; back when you were still an active Soul Reaper."

In fact, Undertaker didn't remember . . . until the memory hit him out of nowhere.

* * *

><p><strong><em>*Flashback*<em>**

_ The snow that had fallen that winter was up to his ankles. Gusts of icy wind made the fabric of his black trench coat billow and stir around him. Each breath he let out created a thick cloud of vapor in front of his face. And yet, despite all of this, he did not shiver._

_ He worked to track down the demon he'd been ordered to kill by his superiors; all without a clue as to where he should start._

_ "This is stupid. Why do I even need to kill the demon, anyways? Why don't I just throw him back through whatever gateway to Hell he crawled out of, instead?"_

_ His search brought him to a pine forest. This is where he found his first clue. A single set of footprints were pressed into the snow. They were still fresh. He stooped down to examine them more closely. They were quite small; likely belonging to a child between the ages of seven and nine years. However, he knew there was more to this child than just being alone in the woods in the middle of winter. He could smell the underlying essence of demon in the prints themselves._

_ A demon running around in the dead of winter alone, and—of all things—it was young. As a Soul Reaper, Grim had slain children before. He had slain demons before, as well. But, even in his long life as the embodiment of death, he had never been sent out to kill a child-demon. A child-demon was as small and helpless in the face of a Reaper as a human child was. They had a chance if they even knew what a Soul Reaper was. Even so, Grim felt no qualms about killing this child-demon. Young, alone, likely starving or injured, and it was winter on top of that; Grim Felt as though he were doing this creature a favor by killing it._

_ Eventually, he heard the magical sound he hoped to hear to give away the demon's location. It could have been compared to a mewling wildcat; like a tiger cub. In the middle of the woods in England it only meant that there was a young demon that had been abandoned and left to die, because the young ones could still freeze to death._

_ Grim followed the sound deeper into the woods and around several pine trees until he finally found what he was looking for._

_ A young demon standing around four-and-a-half feet tall stood trembling and mewling in the winter cold. His black hair was a mess, his clothes were ragged and torn, and the snow was well up to his shins._

_ "What are you doing out in this weather by yourself, child?" Grim asked._

_ The child-demon turned his head to him and backed up a couple of steps, "I'm trying to find my way home?"_

_ "Where's your mother?"_

_ "Dead."_

_ "Where's your father?"_

_ "Dead."_

_ Grim was unfazed by the demon's response. He knew they were about as apathetic towards death as a grown demon was; very blunt and very truthful. It didn't matter to them. It was okay, because it was normal. Demons died on a daily basis because of Reapers, angels, and executions dealt out by Satan Lucifer, himself._

_ "Then why are you whining like that if you have no one to help you?" Grim asked._

_ The child demon sat down on the ground and rested his head in his hands._

_ "I guess I just didn't want to be lonely no more, and now I'm lost. The world's all white and everything looks the same."_

_ Grim smiled, taking advantage of the situation, "Do you want to play a game?"_

_ "A game?"_

_ "Yes, a game."_

_ "What kind of game?"_

_ "Why not hide-and-seek?"_

_ The child-demon looked up at him and smiled, "Okay."_

_ "You can count while I go and hide."_

_ "I can't count."_

_ Grim sighed, "Okay, then. I'll count and you can go hide."_

_ "Okay."_

_ The Reaper closed his eyes and counted. His initial thought was he'd find this demon while he was hiding and he'd ambush him to make his death quick and painless. He could sneak up behind him while the demon tried to hide behind a tree or in some brush, bring his scythe back, and it would be lights out. He wouldn't even know what hit him._

_ Grim gave him until the count of twenty. By then, the demon had vanished from sight, but those tiny footprints still remained indented in the snow._

_ "These children don't know anything." He said to himself._

_ He followed the footprints for several minutes until they led to a single pine tree the snow had been knocked off of it._

_ Grim brought his death scythe back, "I've found you child."_

_ A loud roar from beyond the tree startled him. He looked over the branches of the pine tree and came face to face with a massive serpent. The creature had to be as long as a train and just as big. What such a reptile was doing out in the middle of winter was beyond him, but it was quite active as it stared the Reaper down with hunger glinting in its eyes._

_ Grim couldn't run or do anything. One moment he was playing hide-and-seek with a child-demon, the next he was facing an evil creature from the pits of Hell. It reared up and opened its mouth, exposing row after row of needle-like teeth and a pitch black tongue._

_ As the serpent came at him, it was knocked to the side by a heavy force. It began to writhe and roar in frustration as something attached itself around the beast's neck. Looking closer Grim could suddenly see that it was the child-demon that held onto it. He appeared to have been trying to squeeze the life out of the serpent._

_ The serpent gave a powerful toss of its head; whipping the child-demon off of him and into the snowy ground. Grim watched in horror as the serpent reared up and opened its mouth once more and lunged at the child. The boy was swallowed whole, and even from inside the creature's mouth, Grim could still hear the boy screaming._

_ The serpent slithered to him and struck him in the face with its powerful jaws. The Reaper's face was deeply cut, as was his neck, but the injuries were non-fatal. After that, the serpent simply slithered away and was never seen again._

_ That was when the Grim Reaper lost his mind, and that same day he retired from active service. The scars the wounds the creature created were still present on his skin to this day._

* * *

><p>Undertaker couldn't keep the tears from streaming down his face, "You were . . ."<p>

"Yes . . ." Sebastian replied weakly, "I was the child-demon you met in that forest all those years ago. Thousands . . . many thousands of years ago."

"But that's impossible! That child was _eaten_ by that serpent!"

"I know. I had to cut my way out of that serpent's belly with my own claws."

Undertaker sat there with his mouth agape as the realization set in, "I can't believe you remembered all of that."

Sebastian managed a small smile, "I pride myself with what I'm able to remember," he rested his head back against the soft, cool grass, "Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything, just name it."

"Can you find the other servants . . . make sure they're all right?"

"I can, but where are they? Why weren't they protecting the manor and Lord Phantomhive, like you hired them to do?"

Sebastian closed his eyes, "I saw the size of that mob . . . I knew . . . They wouldn't be able to fight them off. So I told them to run so they could save themselves." He coughed weakly, "It's funny . . . you asking for a favor . . . for nothing in return."

Undertaker gathered Sebastian's injured body in his arms and turning his head to make eye contact.

"Hold on!" he begged, "Hold on, Sebastian."

The demon gave him a rather blank look, "Raum."

"What?"

"My real name is Raum, earl of Hell. Someone should know . . ."

With a few weak pants, Sebastian's eyes slip closed and his heaving, aching body goes limp.

Undertaker reached over with a trembling hand and lifted up the pocket watch Sebastian always carried; now charred and barely functioning. But the hands had still been moving in time with the demons heart, and therefore Undertaker was able to read where the hands of the watch stopped.

The watch stopped three hours into the afternoon, twenty-two minutes, and fifty-nine seconds. That's when the tears came as he remembered the time that had been stated on the To-Die List.

"One more second . . . He couldn't survive one more second."


	8. Chapter 8: Losses

**Chapter 8: Losses**

Who knows how long Undertaker spent kneeling beside Sebastian's body as he sobbed; minutes? Hours? Days? Of all things, he hadn't wished for this to happen to the demon. Lord knows, if anything, he had tried to stop it, and yet he could still hear that voice from his dream laughing at him.

_"You will not be able to save them. They will die, and you will not care. Am I wrong?"_

"I was unable to save Ronald," Undertaker confessed, "I was unable to save Sebastian, and it might be too late to save Lord Phantomhive, but I _do_ care that I've lost them, and I'll be damned if I let anyone else's life slip through my fingers!"

Undertaker picked up Sebastian's now cold and lifeless body and started to make his way back towards the burning mansion. The smoke in the air soon thickened and it became difficult to see, but he pressed on; going based off of his memory on where he had gone.

He slowed down his pace when he saw a group of people ahead of him. He instantly recognized them as members of the mob, but they had been the ones who plead for mercy for the demon.

They watched the old Undertaker emerge from the smoke and looked to Sebastian. A woman approached him. She had long blond hair that was pulled up into a bun and a dignified posture, but the sorrow that coated her features upon laying eyes on Sebastian shattered her stoic appearances.

"I-Is he . . .?"

Undertaker nodded, "His injuries were too severe and he was much too weak."

The woman strode up to them and ran a gentle hand through his limp locks of hair.

"I always nagged at him for his indecency; wearing his hair long, like he did. But he was still a magnificent butler."

Undertaker looked at her with a sad gaze, "I'm afraid to ask what they did to Lord Phantomhive."

A sob escaped the young noblewoman as she covered her face with her hands as she cried; all the answer Undertaker need to know that Ciel was now dead, too.

"How am I ever going to tell Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth. According to his nightmares, she would also die . . . Unless Undertaker was able to change that.

"Have the little lady stop by soon, Mrs. Middleford. I'd like to speak with her."

"Why?"

"She needs to know that his lordship loved her and that she had been able to make him happy in his time. Not Sebastian, not the company, but her and her alone, and she needs to hear it from someone he was well acquainted with."

Mrs. Middleford nodded, "Okay."

"If I may ask . . . What happened to the two green-eyes fellows that accompanied me earlier?"

The sorrow on the woman's face deepened, "The red-haired one was badly injured by his weapon, and he died soon after. The one other fellow went looking for you. I haven't seen anything of him."

Undertaker nodded sadly, "Thank you for telling me. I must be on my way now. I need to find the other Phantomhive servants and make sure they're all right."

He walked back to his shop where he laid Sebastian in a coffin. But not just any old coffin. He pulled out the one that he had seen in his last nightmare and dusted it off. He cleaned out the inside of its cobwebs and dead spiders and bugs. Looking at it, it was perfect for the Phantomhive butler. An earl of Hell forced to become a servant for an earl in the human realm. He knew of Earl Raum long before he knew Sebastian Michaelis. Intelligent, tough, ruthless, unusual, and born with a very odd sense of humor; formal coffins with perfect finishes and flawless details didn't suit him.

"Maybe if I had been a second faster, we'd have been able to chat about this. And what did I do? I stood there and did nothing to help you for far too long. I'm sorry."

* * *

><p>The Phantomhive servants waited patiently beside and old, abandoned mansion not far off from the manor where they worked; or used to work, at least.<p>

"This is awful," Mey-Rin squeaked, "What are we supposed to do now?"

"I don't know." Finny whimpered.

"Don't worry," Bard said, "Sebastian will be along any moment with the young master and another miracle up his sleeve, just like he always does."

"But it's been nearly four hours, Bard," Mey-Rin pointed out, "What if they don't come back?"

Finny nodded, "He has a point, you know. Sebastian always comes back, and he always makes sure that the young master is safe."

That's when Undertaker stepped out of his hiding place in the brush, "Than you aren't going to like hearing what I have to say."

The three servants jumped. Tanaka rose from his seat on a bit of rubble and gazed at his wearily.

"What are you sayin', old man?" Bard asked, "Who are you anyways?"

"They call me Undertaker. I'm an old acquaintance of Lord Phantomhive."

"Why are you here? Where's Sebastian?"

Undertaker shook his head and rubbed the nape of his neck, "He sent me here to make sure the lot of you were all right."

"Right . . ." But where is he? What about the young master? Are they all right?"

Finny stood up, "Of course they are! They've got to be . . ." that's when he caught the look on Undertaker's face, "R-right? They're all right, aren't they?"

Tanaka approached him, "Perhaps you should just tell me, Mr. Undertaker."

The two of them stepped a good distance away from the other servants and spoke in hushed tones so they wouldn't overhear.

"What do you mean, Sebastian's dead?" the steward asked in disbelief when Undertaker told him the unfortunate news.

"I did all that I could," Undertaker explained, "I tried to help his injuries. I begged him to keep holding on, but his injuries were far too severe. And even if he had managed to survive, he'd likely be in pain the rest of his life."

"So, that means . . . Lord Phantomhive . . .?"

"He's dead, too. Grell's dead. William's likely to be dead, as well."

Tanaka shook his head, "But that's impossible! Sebastian's a demon. How could he have been bested by a . . ."

"A crucifixion, and they doused him in holy water too. The holy essences were poisoning his body and causing him exreme pain. He knew when his time had come."

It was then that Tanaka finally came to terms with the fact that Sebastian and Ciel really were dead and he let out a sad sigh.

"The others will not be happy to hear about this."


	9. Author's Note

All fanfics that are in-progress are on hold until further notice due to a gain of sudden

N inspiration to work on my original fiction stories. I will be posting to Wattpad if anyone is interested. Username is KristinaBoyer.


End file.
